


From Light Into Being

by frankcastlesfemfeb (Deathtouch)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, Demon Symmetra, Demons, F/F, Occult, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 04:57:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13563303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathtouch/pseuds/frankcastlesfemfeb
Summary: Femfeb 2018 | Fanficmoira attempts to summon a demon





	From Light Into Being

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd! all mistakes are my own.

Moira checked her pocket watch in a manner that would appear to others as anxious. She wasn’t anxious. She was simply tight on time. There was a difference. She made no expression at all at the position of the minute hand, but she certainly didn’t like it’s placement. She glanced around the jewelry store again.  
  
It was a lovely place, really. The walls and cases were all a deep, rich wood stained a color so dark it almost seemed black. The lighting was low and the scent of the shop was earthy. This particular jewelry store had been in the same spot for a hundred years. The business had been passed down from family member to family member. The building was steeped in history. She would have liked it better if she didn’t have to deal with another setback every time she came here.  
  
Moira took a quick breath, approaching the clerk who was standing behind a case full of diamond necklaces. “Could you just tell your boss-“  
  
“He’ll see you when he’s ready.” The clerk replied. She was a pretty girl with a beautiful cupid’s bow of a mouth. Moira had thought her quite pretty the first time she’d come in here. In the dozen or so times since that first meeting, the clerk had grown less friendly and less prone to smiling. Somehow she didn’t seem as cute anymore.  
  
Thankfully at that exact moment, the jeweler emerged from the back of the shop. He was an older man with strong fingers and a slight stoop to his back. He wore thick framed glasses and clipped to them were a set of magnifying glasses. He walked over to the two of them, hand cupped to hold what he’d been working on.  
  
“They’re all done then?” Moira asked, a touch of hopefulness in her voice.  
  
“Yes, they’re finished.” He said warily. He’d been working on them for weeks.  
  
“Cut to the exact specifications I asked?” She pressed.  
  
“Yes, Ms. O'deorain. The exact specifications.”  
  
“Because even a millimeter off and-“  
  
“They won’t work.” He finished the sentence for her. Yes, yes. He’d heard this a hundred times by now. “And what exactly are you needing them for?”  
  
Moira straightened, lips pursing into a tight line. She didn’t like that he kept asking. It’s not like she could tell him the truth. He wouldn’t believe it for one thing, and if he did he wouldn’t be too pleased to know what he was complicit in.  
  
“Just so long as they’re accurate.” She said after a long pause.  
  
The jeweler extended his hand, passing along the precisely cut prisms of topaz, diamond, garnet, hematite, onyx, obsidian, quartz, sapphire, tanzanite, and zircon. Some of the stones were worth more than others, but it wasn’t the cost that mattered. It was the cut. They needed to be precise; they needed to be perfect.  
  
The Goddess only responded to perfection.  
  
Moira appraised them in her hand. The bright colors stood out against the pale skin of her palm. They seemed right. The shape matched the drawings and sketches in her gramarye. It had taken months to collect stones big enough, and to find the right jeweler to cut them. All that time and effort whittled down to a handful of colored rocks. “Thank you.” She replied sincerely, producing a small drawstring pouch from her breast pocket to rest the stones in.  
  
She paid the man in cash, a fat stack of bank notes wrapped in a band. She had plenty of money to spare and left the jeweler a hefty tip for his fine craftsmanship.  
  


* * *

  
The sky was dark overhead, flickering with lightening and rumbling low with thunder. Gusts of warm wind swirled the brittle brown leaves on the ground. Moira found her ginger hair and the lapels of her jacket fluttering in the wind. The incoming storm was a good sign. There was energy and electricity crackling all around her. It would suit the summoning ceremony nicely.

She went over everything again in her head as she walked, recounting the instructions for the ritual. She knew them all by heart. The heels of her boots clicked on the pavement, sidewalk passing underfoot as she hurried back to her apartment. It was only a temporary living space. She’d really only rented it because of the proportion of the room. It had taken her a long time to find the right place to conduct the ritual. She needed a perfectly square room, equal on all four sides.

She must have visited over a thousand apartment buildings, homes, hotels, hostels, and hovels in the city before she found the right one. She’d gotten down on her hands and knees and measured the baseboards with a tape measure. Often times rooms were off by centimeters. That just wouldn’t do. The apartment she finally found wasn’t in the nicest part of town but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the perfect proportions.

“Moira?”

Moira glanced up from the sidewalk, breaking away from her thoughts.

“Moira O'deorain, is that you?”  
  
To Moira’s surprise, an old colleague of hers crossed the narrow street to greet her. Angela Zeigler. They’d gone to school together a long time ago. She didn’t look much different, in fact she looked positively the same. Her light blonde hair was still done up in that insufferable messy hairstyle she seemed to think was casual and cute. Her modest clothing, a turtleneck sweater and an ugly brown pencil skirt, made her look like someone’s mother.  
  
“Mercy.” Moira greeted, somewhat unkindly.  
  
“Oh goodness, no one’s called me that in ages.” Angela laughed. It was an old nickname from their medical school days.  
  
“I’m sorry, we’ll have to catch up another time. I’m on my way and I’m in a hurry.” Moira told her plainly.  
  
“Moira,” Angela reached out to clutch her by the arm and stop her going. “Are you alright? You look a little…” Her voice trailed off.  
  
Moira stared down at her, filling in the blank with her own words. Rushed? Yes, she was rushed. She needed to begin the ritual soon. It was so close to sunset. The sooner she got home the sooner she could set up. She couldn’t stand around chatting all night.  
  
That wasn’t what Angela was thinking though. Moira realized then that Angela didn’t look concerned. She looked frightened. Moira could see it in her pale blue eyes. There was fear in there.  
  
“Look a little what?” Moira asked suddenly, wanting to know the answer. _Dark? Dangerous? Powerful? Does what you see scare you, little Mercy? Are you remembering all the rumors back at school about the meddling I’ve done with dark forces. Satan worship they called it, the fools._ Moira didn’t say any of this out loud but she wanted to. She was tempted to.  
  
“No, it’s nothing.” Angela forced a smile and stepped back. “Sorry to have bothered you. It was nice to see you.”  
  
Moira hurried on her way, barely listening to the niceties Angela muttered behind her.  
  


* * *

   
Moira stopped at the top of the staircase, laying eyes on her apartment door. Her heart was beating a little quicker in her chest and she had to tell herself it was from rushing up those four flights of stairs. As she reached out with the key to unlock the door she found her hand was trembling, just a little. She stopped to steady herself, drawing in one deep breath after another. There was no need to be nervous. She wasn’t nervous. She just wanted this to go right.  
  
It pained her to imagine what might happen if she messed up the ritual. The Goddess might be angry. She might come bringing pain and death. Moira found that she wasn’t scared of dying. What worried her was the idea that The Goddess might not come at all. That had happened to others. Others who had done the summoning ritual perfectly. The Goddess simply hadn’t been interested in appearing for them.  
  
“Not me.” Moira told herself. “I’ll summon her.” She unlocked the door with a click and pushed it open.  
  
The room was precisely how she had left it; nearly empty. It was a blank slate of a room to begin with. She hadn’t moved any furniture in. The only thing she’d brought to adorn the place were candles and dried flowers. Purple irises, yellow daffodils and pale gladioluses. The candles, free of scent and white in color, and the dried flowers were both elements required for the ritual. The most important part, however, was the sigil Moira had carved into the hard wood floors.  
  
The sigil was almost as big as the room itself. It was a painstakingly intricate piece of work containing circles inside circles, shapes, symbols, runes, and interconnecting lines and curves that crossed one another a thousand times over. It had taken her a week’s worth of endless toiling to complete.  
  
It wasn’t good enough to simply make the impression of the sigil, she had to get it exact. Perfect circles, perfect angles, perfect shapes. She’d used protractors and rulers, checking and double checking her work. If one line was off by a centimeter, if one circle wasn’t exact in its circumference The Goddess would not come.  
  
Moira took a deep breath, stepping into the large sigil. She produced the drawstring bag of jewels from her pocket and emptied them into her hand. She knew the sigil by heart. She knew which gem went where. She got down to her hands and knees, finding the crevices she had carved into the wooden floor. She placed each gem in its carved slot, adoring the sigil with small twinkles of sparkling color.  
  
When she was finished she sat back on her heels, wiping her forehead. The gems were evenly dispersed around the outer circle. She hoped this offering of beauty would please The Goddess immensely. Moira checked her pocket watch, noting that it was almost exactly sunset. She need only light the candles and begin the prayer.  
 

* * *

   
Moira’s tongue felt thick and dry. Her voice was raspy and cracking from the chanting. She repeated the words of the prayer again and again, a kind of musical cadence to them. She’d said them so much they were no longer words in her head, just noises. It didn’t even feel like she was speaking them anymore. She was so entranced, her lips and tongue were moving by rote. Her voice was not her own to control. Her body overrode, acting compulsively. She couldn’t mess up now, couldn’t deviate, couldn’t stop. She had to keep going, keep repeating until The Goddess arrived.  
  
Her knees ached from kneeling on the hard floor. The room had grown hot, unbearably hot, as she chanted. She couldn’t remember how long she’d been kneeling here repeating the words. She only knew that she had to continue. Sweat prickled all over her body, beading on her forehead. She didn’t think of it. She repeated the words, willing her desires into being.  
  
_Perfection_ , she thought as she chanted.  _Come to me, please, Goddess. I’ve done it all perfectly for you_. The air burned her lungs as she drew in breath. It was so hot in here. Though she was uncomfortable, sweating through her clothes and desperate for water, she didn’t have room for those thoughts in her head.  _Perfection_ , she thought again.  _It’s all perfect. It’s all for you_.  
  
A crackling sound nearly made her miss a beat in her chant. The sounds of distant thunder had been rumbling in the background all night but now it sounded like a bolt of lightning had hit the floor in front of her. She opened her eyes, not knowing when she’d close them. Her eyes watered from how hot it was. Heat waves shimmered in front of her. She squinted painfully, noticing something was falling from the ceiling. Her chanting quieted but continued as she looked up. Ash. Ash was falling down, and flakes of something smoldering with the spark of fire.  
  
Her heart leapt in her chest.  
  
Before her The Goddess appeared, a shimmering mirage. She was molten like magma, a burning heat radiating from her chest. Her eyes were bright, white hot beacons. Dark horns curled back from her head. Her skin was a breathtaking mottling of black purple and burning orange and bright white gold. She was so much more beautiful than Moira ever could have imagined.  
  
“Symmetra.” She whispered The Goddess’s name, bowing before the demon. “I’m honored.”  
  
Moira didn’t even have time to be proud of her accomplishment and the fact that she’d actually done it. She was too busy being in awe. She had summoned other demons before, but never one so powerful as this. Never one she had such reverence for.  
  
“You called?” Symmetra mused in a dark voice, heat radiating from her body.  
  
“Please,” Moira whispered, “Bestow upon me your knowledge.”  
  
“You must please me first.” Symmetra told her.  
  
Moira looked up, not daring to look The Goddess in the eye. Instead she stared at her cloven feet. “Does the sigil not please you?” She asked, confused. She must have done it right or else The Goddess would not be here. What more could she offer? The flowers? The candles?  
  
“You’ve done fine work with your hands.” Symmetra replied. “Now show me what your tongue can do.”  
  
Moira gasped softly, the realization flooding through her. Again her heart leapt in her chest. Yes. Oh, yes. She never dreamed she would be worthy enough to touch The Goddess, let alone use her mouth. The privilege was not lost on Moira what-so-ever. She crawled, hand and knee to the demon’s feet and sat back. She raised her hand to part Symmetra’s skirts and found that this time her hands were not trembling.  
  
Though it burned her to be so near the molten skin of The Goddess, this did not stop Moira. She buried her face between the thighs of the demon and licked at her folds hungrily. She felt like she was licking hot fire. A sharp taste burned her tongue. It was delicious. She licked for more. She put an unmatched enthusiasm into the task, her own body alight with pleasure. She couldn’t believe this. To taste the sweet juices of The Goddess, Symmetra. How could she be so lucky?  
  
Pleasure thrummed through her own body. Her eyes rolled back into her head. She got lost in the task, the same way she had gotten lost in her chanting. Her tongue worked tirelessly, attempting to please The Goddess with all she was worth. The heat intensified around her, becoming insufferable. She couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t care. Blackness washed over her and even in her last waking moments she gave her all to satisfy the demon.  
  
When she came to, Moira was dusted with ash. Her lips and tongue tingled in pain. She was sprawled in the center of the sigil. Crisp flurries, alight with fading fire still floated down from the ceiling. She pushed herself to sit up, trying to get her bearings. In the dark she saw a pair of bright yellow eyes, burning intensely. Moira stiffened immediately, suddenly aware that she was still in the presence of The Goddess.  
  
“Thank you,” She whispered hoarsely, offering her appreciation. She was at a loss for words for a moment. “Have I pleased you, Symmetra? Will you bestow upon me your knowledge?”  
  
The demon shifted, stepping forward. Her chest began to glow yellow. The room grew hot once more. She came closer and closer, crossing into the sigil to where Moira lay. A terrible energy clouded her, something dark and dangerous and powerful. Something Moira ached to have. For a moment she was sure The Goddess was approaching her to kill her, to rip her throat out, to devour her whole. She accepted her impending death.  
  
Instead, Symmetra bent at the waist. “From light into being.” She said calmly, as if these words held all the answers of the universe. She reached out, tapping a finger to Moira’s head.  
  
The world cut out.  
 

* * *

  
Moira woke with a choked cough like a woman drowning. She turned on her side, coughing and hacking miserably. Her head was burning, a massive migraine making her nauseous. She tried to remember what had happened but it was all a mess, bits and pieces coming back to her in chopped and screwed memories. She could barely even remember what The Goddess looked like. Only those burning eyes and the seam of hot lava that ran down her chest.  
  
The candles had burned down to nubs and the room was in darkness. In the slim light she could see that the dried flowers had shriveled to brittle brown clumps. The gems in the floor did not sparkle, they were dull and sad. She reached for the nearest one and found it was cracked in two. She held it in her palm, staring at it as if it held some answer.  
  
A corner of the garnet prism caught some light source and it sparkled, barely.  
  
Light.  
  
From light into being.  
  
Moira gasped, choking again. Her head pulsed with pain but she remembered. She remembered. She remembered everything Symmetra had shown her. The intricacies of the universe and all that it had to offer. How she need only bend the light to make it hers. The broken gem clattered from her hand as she began to make the motions she had learned. A soft wave, a pinch of her fingers. It took all her energy but a soft blue light blossomed in her palm. A new gem formed, perfectly shaped and whole.  
  
Tears sprung unbidden into Moira’s eyes. She laughed. She’d done it. She’d called upon The Goddess and gained her knowledge. She felt more powerful now than ever before.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm taking femslash february suggestions year round  
> send requests or prompts ➝ [here](https://curiouscat.me/deathtouch)  
> follow me on twitter ➝ [here](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)  
> thanks for reading ✩°｡⋆


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